Public Secrets

and led her outside to the waiting limo.
“Don’t try that shy, retiring stuff on me. I happen to know that no one loves the spotlight better.”
It was true enough. He settled back against the cushy seat, enjoying the scent of leather and fresh flowers. But he worried. “I thought I knew the bastard,” he said half to himself. “I didn’t like him particularly, but I figured I knew him. One of the biggest pissers is I helped write his first hit.”
“It’s a bit foolish to beat yourself up over that now.”
“If he had anything to do with Darren …” With a shake of his head he pulled out a cigarette. “That should keep the tabloids going for years.”
“We’ll deal with it.” She laid a hand over his. “It’s all going to come out anyway. Jane’s part in it, and Blackpool’s. We’ll just have to learn to live with it.”
“It’s rough on Bri. Like going through it a second time.”
“He’s stronger now.” She fingered the pin on her jacket. “I guess we all are.”
He brought her hand to his lips. “You know, if you threw Michael over, I might just might consider changing my…style.”
She laughed, then picked up the phone as it began to ring. “Hello. Michael.”
Johnno sat back and watched her smile spread.
“Yes, I’m sitting here thinking over a proposal from an incredibly attractive man. No, Johnno.” She put a hand over the receiver. “Michael wants you to know he’s got an in with the Department of Motor Vehicles and can make your life a living hell.”
“I’ll take the bus,” Johnno decided.
“Yes. We’re due at the theater at four. The early award ceremonies should have already started.”
“I’m sorry I can’t be there,” Michael told her. He glanced down the hospital corridor toward ICU. “If things change here, I’ll meet you.”
“Don’t worry about it.”

“Easy for you to say. I miss my chance to ride in a limo and rub elbows with the rich and famous. If you married me, I could do it once a week.”
“All right.”
He caught a glimpse of a doctor coming down the corridor. “All right what?”
“I’ll marry you.”
He ran a hand through his hair and shifted the phone. “Excuse me?”
She grinned foolishly at Johnno and squeezed his hand. “Have we got a bad connection?”
“No, I…Shit, hold on.” He put a hand over the speaker to listen to the doctor. “I’ve got to go, Emma. He’s coming out of it. Listen, don’t forget where we left off. Okay?”
“No, I won’t.” She hung up just as Johnno popped the cork on the champagne.
“Do I get invited this time?”
“Hmmm? Oh, yes . Yes.” A little dazed herself, she stared at the glass he handed her. “It was so easy.”
“It’s supposed to be when it’s right.” Feeling a bit misty, he touched his rim to hers. “He’s the luckiest man I know.”
“We can make it work.” She sipped, letting the wine explode on her tongue. “We will make it work.” Dreamily she settled back and didn’t give a thought to Blackpool.

M ICHAEL THOUGHT OF him. He stood at the foot of the bed and studied the man who had tried to kill Emma. He hadn’t come out of it well. His face was ruined. If he made it, he would need a series of operations to reconstruct it. His survival didn’t look promising with the internal damage he’d suffered in the crash.
Michael didn’t give a damn whether he lived or died. He only wanted five minutes.

He had the background report on Blackpool. It was still sketchy, but it told him enough. The man swimming toward consciousness in ICU had been born Terrance Peters. As a juvenile he’d racked up a record of petty theft, vandalism, possession. He’d graduated to assault, usually on women, dealing, and larceny before he’d changed his name and tried his hand at singing in clubs. He’d let London swallow him, and though he’d been under suspicion for a handful of robberies, he’d always slid his way out.
His luck had turned when he’d hooked up with Jane Palmer.
For the worse as it turned out, Michael thought. It’s taken twenty years, you sonofabitch, but we’ve got you.
“He won’t be in any shape to talk,” the doctor pointed out. “He needs to stabilize.”
“I’ll keep it brief.”
“I can’t leave you alone with him.”
“Fine. We can always use a witness.” He stepped to the side of the bed. “Blackpool.” He watched the eyes flutter, still, then flutter again. “Blackpool, I want to talk to you about Darren McAvoy.”
Blackpool dragged his